“Like me,” I interrupt with a smile, and Diego gives a cruel smile back.
“Yeah, like you, a walking death-wish. No, Lorenzo is Abruzzi blood. You didn’t wonder why he thought he could waltz into our territory like that and push that girl around? He’s a spoiled little daddy’s boy, Luca—Lorenzo Abruzzi is their boss’s son.”
Shit.
“That asshole calling himself ‘Don Abruzzi’? He’s letting his snot-nosed brat run loose?” I ask with a grimace.
“Yeah, that asshole,” Diego says, striding back to the stacked bottles of beer, looking like he wants to pull one out, bad.
I let out a chuckle that makes Diego raise an eyebrow at me. “You think this shit’s funny?” he says incredulously.
“Kind of,” I admit. “I like seeing ‘royalty’ knocked down a peg.”
Diego shakes his head with a smile of disbelief. “Been trying to send your ass on jobs to get you killed for years, and you keep comin’ back with this shit. You’re something else, you know that?”
He’s only half-joking, and I know by the look in his eyes he’d like to try to beat that smile off my face if he weren’t in front of the consigliere, whose face hasn’t changed this whole time.
“Listen, you son of a bitch,” Diego says, stepping toward me slowly, “I don’t care if you’re the best man I’ve got on the ground out here, you were out of line. You were out somewhere you weren’t supposed to be, doing shit you weren’t supposed to be doing, and you beat the shit outta some guy you weren’t supposed to touch with a thirty-foot pole.”
“So you dragged me out here to tighten my leash?” I say, raising my eyebrows. I hold my arms out, exposing my torso to him and the enforcers in the room. “Well then, take your shots. I can take a beating, I know how this goes.”
Diego gives a cruel laugh, glaring daggers at me. I’m embarrassing him in front of his superior, and he knows it. The man could put a bullet in my head if he wanted to, though, so I know better than to push it. My temper is flaring, but in the back of my mind, Serena’s safety is still my number one priority. If I get myself killed, she won’t be safe. I lower my arms.
“Nah, if this was about that, you’d be feeling it already, and we wouldn’t be getting the floor of this fine establishment dirty,” he says. He then moves back to stand beside the consigliere, and both of them look at me like judges.
“The Cleaners are going to take Lorenzo’s smashed-up face as an act of war,” Diego says, “and if there’s one thing I know about the Abruzzis, it’s that they take insults like that very personally.” Diego pauses to take out a cigarette and light it, and the smell of tobacco fills the space between us. He stares me down. “You got us in some real hot fuckin’ water, Luca, you know that? Things are tense with the Cleaners as it is—I’ve had people calling me to tell me I oughta have your ass killed to smooth things over with them.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” I snarl, and even some of the enforcers in the room looks surprised at my talking to my boss like that. Diego just watches me, burning cigarette in hand.
“I gave my life to this family, you all know that,” I say, looking around at the gathered people, even making eye contact with the consigliere. “I haven’t forgotten that, and I’ll take as many bullets as you have me dish out to those stronzi. But you know Serena’s safety means more than anything to me, and it has from the very start,” I say, looking back to Diego.
“Think about the past few months,” I say, knowing it’s time to show my bargaining chips if I want to get out of here unscathed. “The fight at the warehouse down by the river? I had that gunfight on lockdown. The Cleaners would have put all our men in the grave that night if I hadn’t been there, ask any one of them. Just last week, when that fucking rat Gabe tried to catch a bus out of state to cozy up to the Russians, I’m the one who put a bullet in his head coming out of his hotel room. When you need a job done right, Diego, you’ve come to me,” I say, “I’m the best you’ve got, and you know it.”
I can tell by the look in Diego’s eye he’s ready to start a fight with me right then and there. Some of the enforcers look to be of the same mind. Diego opens his mouth to speak, but to everyone’s surprise...the consigliere raises a hand.
It’s a simple move, but it silences Diego.
“You’re right, Luca,” his calm voice says simply. He sounds older than he looks. “Diego, Luca’s a big boy. He does good work for our family, and he’s proven more than capable. Which is why he’s going to take care of his own mess here.”
Diego and I both look at the consigliere blankly.
“Luca, part of your ‘agreement’ with us means that we don’t touch Serena De Laurentis or her business. We respect that. But you’ve crossed the line here and dragged her into our business, whether she likes it or not.”
I feel heat wash over my body. Damn him, I know he’s right. I should have been protecting Serena, not getting involved with her like this. I’ve endangered us both just by coming near her. That’s the one accusation I can’t fight off.
“But you’re a man who takes responsibility,” he goes on, folding his hands in front of him as he watches me carefully. “So I have a solution that should make us both happy. I’m assigning you to her and her business. You’ll be her personal guard, and I expect you to handle the situation with all the stubbornness I’ve seen tonight.”
So that’s how it is. That’s why he’s here. He saw a chance to get the family to protect Serena’s business, and he took it. He’s good. And he’s right—because I’d take a bullet to the heart before I let anything happen to Serena.
“Lorenzo Abruzzi takes these kinds of things very personally,” the consigliere says. “If it makes you feel better about watching over Miss De Laurentis’s place, chances are good he’ll see this as between the two of you above all.”
“So what, should I expect a hit squad to come shoot up my place sometime soon?” I say.
“I wouldn’t rule that out,” Diego speaks up, “but Lorenzo has a reputation... with women.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“He’s not good to his girls, and the Abruzzis don’t shy away from the sex trade. Kid’s got an ego so fragile even someone like Serena can shake it. Hell, especially someone like her. He won’t like the fact that you showed his ass up in front of her. That shop of hers is going to be on his mind, Luca—and so is she. The Cleaners know who she is. That and this new history the three of you have makes her a high-value target.”
They’re goading me into anger, but as much as the heat is boiling up inside me, I won’t show it. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” the consigliere says, standing up and locking eyes with me, “that going after you isn’t enough for a man like Lorenzo. We got a tip. Lorenzo has his eyes set on Serena. If he gets his hands on her, he’s going to make her disappear into the sex trade. Or worse.”
Serena
Last night was a whirlwind.
I was still reeling from the rush of it all when I finally made it back home last night around two in the morning. Thankfully, Mom was already in her bedroom with the lights off by then, instead of waiting up for me to come home like she often did. I wonder what time she gave up waiting for me, and the thought is almost enough to deflate my high spirits. In the back of my mind there’s a small voice telling me I should feel guilty for leaving her here all alone for so long when I know good and well that she’s prone to worrying about me. But then again, I do spend all my time working and doing everything in my power to look after Mom and the house. Don’t I deserve a break every now and then?
Besides, there’s no way in hell I could have resisted a reunion with Luca, even if I wanted to.
He’s the one who got away, the knight in shining armor who has finally returned from a long, arduous eternity at war. From the very second it clicked in my brain who he was, it’s been totally clear to me that I have been waiting for him all this time, without even realizing it. Even though I thought I was ove
r it, over all the awful stuff that went down several years ago between and around us, there’s always been a little part of me who kept looking for him everywhere I went.
And now he’s back. He’s back! It’s almost impossible to fathom, that we could find our way back to each other again after all this time. He’s changed, that’s for damn sure. No longer the scrappy, rebellious teenager who first captured my heart. No, he’s a man now.
Standing in the shower after waking up late — I somehow managed to sleep through my alarm again — I think about how much he’s changed. That face of his, always handsome, has gained a more serious, world-weary expression. Like he’s seen and done things that the teenage version of him could never imagine. It hurts my heart to think of him in pain.
And then there are the more physical changes: his height, his rippling muscles, the scruffy beard obscuring his strong jawline and making him look like some rugged mountain man in the very best way imaginable. I shiver involuntarily, feeling myself getting wet between my thighs just at the thought of him. If I thought I was subconsciously longing for him before, there was no hiding the fact that I very consciously wanted him now. Especially after last night, when I found myself wrapped up in the most explosively fantastic sex of my life.
Until the evening was cut short by that phone call.
I still have no idea what that was really about, but right now is not the right time to think about it, since staying up late last night made me oversleep, and now I’m late for opening the shop! I’ve never allowed a man or my emotions to override my intense desire to maintain my responsibilities. I’m a hard worker, and I know that the future of my little, broken family is in my hands.
So I hurry through my shower and the rest of my morning routine, get dressed and dash out the door. It’s not until I’m already driving to work that I realize I forgot to even say good morning to my mother. That familiar, heavy feeling of guilt settles down over me and when I pull into a gas station to fill up my tank, I take out my phone and send her a text message.
Good morning! Sorry I had to rush. Slept thru my alarm.
Barely ten seconds pass before I get a reply: You were very late coming home last night.
My heart sinks. So she was awake for that. I type out, I’m sorry, did I wake you up? Time got away from me. As I put the gas cap back on and slide into the driver’s seat to start my car, the phone buzzes again.
No, I was already awake. Just waiting for you to come home. I do worry when you’re out so late, Serena. You’re young and you should be enjoying life. I know how hard you work, dear. But things aren’t the way they were when I was your age. Not anymore. It’s dangerous out there.
I sigh, wondering how to respond. I decide that because I’m already late for work, I don’t have time to write out a long reply. I simply answer, I know, Mom. I’ll be more careful. I love you. Then I start the car and make my way downtown to work. Even my mother’s worrying can’t totally puncture my giddiness as I dreamily relive the events of last night, playing it over and over in my head.
However, when I walk up to the shop front, my good mood instantly melts away and my heart begins to race. Right there, on each of the two wide windows that I keep so spotlessly clean, is bright red graffiti. Both windows have a massive skull with three legs coming out of it. The symbol looks vaguely familiar, and then it hits me. In one of my introductory college history classes, I remember seeing a symbol similar to this one in a list of various national flags from around the world.
If I recall correctly, this particular one belongs to Sicily, only with a normal human face in the center instead of a gruesome skull. It dawns on me that this must be used as some kind of gang or mafia insignia around here. Probably the same guys who threatened me for protection money. I swallow hard, almost afraid to even go inside my own shop, the beloved store I call home for the majority of my waking hours. The one asset left of my father’s former dynasty.
Tears burn in my eyes as passersby cross the street to avoid having to walk close to my shop. I can feel them all whispering, averting their eyes, making mental notes to never set foot in Bathing Beauty, because it’s now tainted with mob activity. I can just hear them gossiping at the office water cooler with their stuffy, white-collar coworkers, talking about how my shop has been marked. Discussing the inevitable failure of my business. Hedging bets on how long it’ll be before Bathing Beauty shuts down forever. The thought makes me feel dizzy and weak in the knees.
“What am I doing just standing here?” I murmur to myself angrily. I shake myself out of my stunned, tragic state and go inside to grab some rags and window cleaner, then set to work trying to scrub away the graffiti. I’ll be damned if all my hard work gets undone by some arrogant hooligans. I may be just one young woman, but I’m also my Dad’s daughter, and he would be disappointed to see me fall apart so easily. I’m better than that.
However, the window cleaner doesn’t seem to be affecting the graffiti at all, and after about an hour of fruitless scrubbing, my arms are aching and I decide to just leave it for now. After all, there’s inventory to do and shelves to clean and stock. So I go inside and get to work, turning on some upbeat radio station and trying my best to pretend everything is okay.
A couple hours pass before there’s the jingle of the front door and I glance over eagerly, hoping that maybe some brave customer has decided to look past the graffiti and come in anyway. But it’s actually even better than that: Luca is walking in!
Despite everything, my mouth immediately upturns into a smile as I take in his freshly-shaven face, the sexy button-up shirt he’s wearing rolled to his elbows, and the giant bouquet of exotic-looking red flowers in his hands. He grins at me and it’s almost like the beauty of his smile knocks me back a step. God, he’s handsome.
“Good morning, mia passerotta,” he says, his voice a delicious deep thrum.
“Luca, I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I say, feeling as bashful as a preteen girl with a schoolyard crush. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ears as he steps up to the counter and offers me the bouquet. “What are these? They’re beautiful!” I ask.
“Nearly as beautiful as you,” Luca adds. “In fact, you’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen since I last saw these flowers growing wild back home in Italy. It just so happened this morning that I noticed the neighborhood florist had some in the window and I had to get them for you. It’s fate.”
His words immediately warm my soul and help me relax a little. Luca has always had a calming presence about him, and it’s intoxicating to be around. But then his expression darkens a little.
“I can’t help but notice the new artwork on your front windows there,” he points out, those green eyes locked with mine. There’s a deep sympathy there. I look away.
“Yeah, it was there when I got here this morning,” I answer, fiddling with the bouquet. “I tried washing it off but I couldn’t get it to even smudge.”
“It’s the special kind of paint they use. I’ll have to get you some heavy-duty industrial-grade cleaner to get rid of it,” Luca tells me. “In fact, I’ll go get it now. I know just where to find it. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
He nods and turns to leave, clearing the space to the door with several long strides.
“Luca, you don’t have to—”
He glances back and gives me a consoling smile. “I want to.”
Then he walks out and gets into his car to drive off, leaving me standing here slack-jawed and stunned, still holding the beautiful flowers. I quickly find a vase in the back room, fill it with water, and by the time I’m finished trimming and arranging the flowers into the vase, the door jingles again and in walks Luca with a giant white bottle of cleaner in his hand. It can’t have even been fifteen minutes, much less twenty!
At my shocked expression, Luca laughs and says, “I know a guy. Now, just give me a few minutes and I’ll have this shit come right off.”
I stand inside, watching through the window as Luca easil
y scrubs away the red graffiti until the glass sparkles and shines again. It’s like magic. Luca is like magic. When he comes back in, he goes to wash his hands and I follow, thanking him profusely.
“It’s no big deal,” he assures me. “I can’t have you trying to run a shop with that ugly shit on the windows. Problem solved. The nightmare’s behind you now, sweetheart. However,” he adds with a grin brightening his face, “you’re all shaken up. Too shaken up to try and keep the shop running today. You need a break.”
I blink a few times, confused. “No, no. I-I’m fine, really. I have a lot of work to do.”
Luca glances around. “Looks spic-and-span in here, Serena. Not much to do.”
I shifted uncomfortably, biting my lip. “Well, it’s just…I can’t leave. What if I have a customer? I need to meet my daily sales quota or the profit margin gets totally skewed, and I’m already barely breaking even, as it is, and—”
“Hey,” Luca interrupts, his hands landing gently on my shoulders as he peers into my face. I feel my body heating up just from this light touch. “If it’s a quota you’re after, just let me know how much it is and I’ll make it happen.”
I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “What, do you ‘know a guy’ who needs a few hundred dollars’ worth of bath bombs and soaps?”
Luca chuckles. “Yeah. Me.”
I stare at him blankly. “You. You want three-hundred-dollars of bath goods.”
He shrugs and walks over to pick up a wicker shopping basket. “Sure. Load me up.”
“Luca, that’s ridiculous, you can’t just—”
“Why not? You’re really going to turn away a paying customer?” he asks earnestly, with a mischievous glint in his gorgeous eyes. Against my better judgement, I have to laugh.
“Okay. Fine. If you’re totally sure.”
“Oh, I definitely am. Now, do you have any manly-scented stuff or am I just gonna go full floral with this deal?” he asks, picking up and peering quizzically at a lavender-scented bubble bath gel.
[Killer 01.0] Killer for Hire Page 7
